Trichology
by SookSouli
Summary: No-one ever asked him why he had such an unusual length of hair. To be honest, Sephiroth wasn't entirely sure himself. Some odd memories and scenes from the general's life involving his hair. "No hair on your face or body? You have enough on your head!"


**A/N: **I'm a bigtime fan of Sephiroth, not just the 'eee, so pretty!' type of fan (I think!) But I really think he's one of the most interesting characters to be spawned from SE. He's a real gift and challenge for me to write, I don't usually cope well with the 'socially weird, unloved as child' characters. I still strongly disagree that he's a sociopath, after playing CC you can see just how well...normal in a troubled way he was TBH (PRE-CRAZINESS, obviously!), but obviously not raised to be a social butterfly or anything of the sort. He's badass and clever as hell, but easily stuck in terms of human relationships. AH! I hope I've done some of his complexity justice and I would really appreciate some concrit from Sephiroth _sleuths_, don't expect me not to debate back my beliefs on his persona though. I want to do tons more on him. My prompt for this was Shave.

**TRICHOLOGY**

It had been after one of their particularly gruelling spar sessions - one difficult enough to make Angeal sweat and pant and Sephiroth rub his arms and legs, even _his _muscles sore from exertion - that he noticed it. They were in the shower room; they didn't look at each other, not ever. It was an unspoken rule. Angeal couldn't care less and was completely unfazed by his nakedness. However, something told him that Sephiroth disliked people looking at him. Besides, they hadn't known each other too long and although he could sense they were becoming friends quickly, he didn't want to pester him.

He had noticed that Sephiroth never showered with Genesis; Angeal smirked, he knew fine well that Genesis wouldn't be able to resist sneaking peeks at the enigmatic general's form despite the disrespect of it. Sephiroth was as quick to cotton on to this insensitive and mischievous trait of Genesis's personality after only knowing the redhead a few short months.

Wet, knee-length, silver hair was swept over the pale man's shoulder as he combed it alone in the corner. Fully dressed again, the little, wet slaps of his hair hitting the leather of his coat were the only noise coming from him. Angeal, a towel around his waist, was holding a small, thin blade and concentrating on his reflection in the mirror, running it across his chin and cheek with a close, scraping sound.

For a second, Sephiroth thought it looked like the blade might keep going and slip in through Angeal's skin. He felt a slight alarm travel through him that made him sit straight, dropping the comb to his side. Angeal noticed the sudden movement and dark eyes locked on him in the mirror. He nodded at him questioningly.

"What are you doing?" asked Sephiroth in a low voice.

Angeal raised an eyebrow at him, a perplexed expression on his face.

"I'm shaving," he smirked. "What does it look like?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "You always have facial hair."

"I have a little. I would have even more if I didn't shave," Angeal said carefully. Sometimes, Sephiroth would act in this slightly strange manner that he was gingerly becoming used to, but at first it had made him very uneasy. He was _always_ a little odd -everyone in SOLDIER was- but not in this way: that it seemed as though he had never been taught very _simple_ things in life. Sephiroth knew every city and their languages, the name and possible combination of every materia, several hundred different counters to a straight thrust of a sword, but he -every now and then, it _was_ _rare_- would seem to be very unsure of basic things, such as if or not dogs liked to be petted.

"I see." He said nodding, "but why don't you shave it all off?"

"It looks better this way?" He turned around, wet, brown hair dancing over his neck. "You're awfully chatty today."

"I am?" he said with a faint upturning of his lips. He wasn't looking at the shorter man who just breathed a laugh through his wide nose and continued shaving.

"Haven't you ever shaved?"

"I haven't. I don't grow hair on my face." Sephiroth had an expression on his face that suggested that even thinking about having hair on his face was an utterly foreign concept.

"I'm not surprised. I don't think Genesis does either."

Sephiroth said nothing to this, but simply continued brushing his hair.

"Ha, I guess you make up for it." The darker man continued, his smooth baritone wrapping around the bars of laughter.

"Hm?"

"Not having any hair on your face or body. You have enough on your head as it is." Sephiroth smiled a little.

"I guess you're right," he murmured, sliding the comb through slick, rose -this time- scented hair.

--

"Professor Hojo?" a ten years old Sephiroth said quietly, his silver hair only beginning to flirt with the bottom of his shoulder blades. The dark haired man said nothing, so the boy continued, "Why do you have the same...face as Professor Gast today?"

At first he received no answer from the -even then- crooked spined doctor. Sephiroth did not ask again, but continued to stare with light jade eyes at the stubble growth over Hojo's chin.

"On the table," he said, and Sephiroth hopped on top of it.

"Do you mean my beard?" Hojo said at last, rubbing his sallow hands over his face.

The boy nodded and he wheezed out his typical back-shaking laugh that sent sharp shivers sinking down Sephiroth's spine.

"My boy, a beard is the hair that grows on a human's chin, cheeks, neck, and the area above the upper lip. Typically, only and most post-pubescent males are able to grow beards. Professor Gast chooses to grow his while I recognise it's unhygienic and unattractive properties and shave it off. It appears, in my haste this morning, I forgot."

Sephiroth listened, swinging his legs, unflinching when the professor stabbed the inside of his elbow with a needle, drawing blood from him slowly.

"When I'm as old as you, will I get one?"

"It is possible."

"But you said that most males get it; you worded your answer as thought it's unlikely I will grow one. Aren't I male enough?"

Hojo's back shook in laughter again. Sephiroth's upper lip raised at one side.

"I said you are male, indeed."

"What do you mean to say, professor?" Sephiroth said, impatiently, and Hojo wrote something down in his notebook he always carried. In a moment of frustration and confusion the child slapped the notebook down and out of the black haired man's grasp. It fell to the floor with a fluttering tap. Hojo's arm snapped out and grabbed the boy's arm, squeezing hard.

"You are one action away from being code blue. My. Boy."

Sephiroth's eyes flashed and nostrils flared, but let his hand go limp. Hojo giggled to himself again, taking the blood sample to a nearby machine.

"Magnificent..." the scientist mumbled to himself, his high pitched voice irritating Sephiroth endlessly. "Enough questions for today." He labelled the vial. "Professor Gast is allowing you to go outside."

--

The tent was dimly lit, large and comfortable as far as outdoor, army living went, but then again they were the three best the army had. ShinRa liked to keep them sweet in times such as these: war. Sephiroth entered late one night, overhearing the last of Genesis's whining.

"Would it have killed them to have found a way to equip showers into these things?" He was lounging on one of the cots. "Good evening, general."

Sephiroth shot him a withering look, saying nothing.

"Oh, he's not in the mood for my games tonight, Angeal."

Angeal spared them a glance before returning his attention to a map. Sephiroth smirked, hanging his sword against his own cot and took off his armour plated shoulder pads, rolling his muscles.

"Sore?" asked Genesis.

"Because of your terrible jokes, Genesis? No," said Angeal from the table, still not looking at them. Genesis rolled his eyes.

"Not _you_. Sephiroth," he said, gesturing at him. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow as Angeal looked up at them again.

"What? What about Sef?" Sephiroth laughed very slightly and Genesis rolled his eyes again.

"He's been like this all evening," Genesis said.

"We're in the middle of a war, my concentration is elsewhere," Angeal snapped, his deep voice distracted already.

"Mm-hmm. Elsewhere...or maybe...else_fair_." Angeal glared at the redhead then. "Oh, please. That was clever wordplay, if nothing else." He looked to Sephiroth for agreement; he was disappointed when the general just shook his head slowly, sharing a look with Angeal. Genesis sighed, pulling out his book. "Fine."

Sephiroth smirked again, peeled the leather coat from his body and sat down wearily. He was aware of Genesis's eyes following his movements.

"How is it out there?" Angeal, surrounded by papers, asked.

"Several scouts haven't come back yet. A second has gone after them. I'll be alerted if he doesn't come back within the designated timeframe."

"What are you doing?" Genesis asked quickly when Sephiroth threw his waterfall of silver hair over his chest and one shoulder.

"I'm going to a club. What do you think I'm doing?" Genesis laughed and Angeal did as well, silently. It was always a little funnier when it was Sephiroth being sarcastic, simply because he didn't show humour or impatience very often and even then, they two were the only ones ever to see it.

"I mean with your hair," the redhead said finally.

"I'm tying it."

"You're _plaiting_ it."

"So?"

"Plaiting is for _girls_." Sephiroth looked at Angeal, frowning. The broad man shook his head.

"No, it isn't," argued Sephiroth. He paused for a moment. "You try sleeping with hair this long-"

"If you insist," smirked Genesis before he could finish. Genesis stood and sauntered to Sephiroth, who jumped, afraid that Genesis wasn't joking with him and he'd miscommunicated.

"Let me," Genesis said. Sephiroth blinked at him. "Your hair. Let me do it."

"Oh. Ah, if you insist," he said hesitantly, unaware he was mimicking him. Genesis smirked, showing teeth and sat beside him, taking his lustrous hair in greedy handfuls. Sephiroth's cat-like eyes watched him carefully. Angeal, unnoticed, had also looked up again.

"It's so soft," he said. "What do you put on it?"

"I don't know," Sephiroth said impatiently. "ShinRa delivers it."

He shivered as Genesis loosened what he'd already plaited and ran his clean, manicured hands through it from his scalp. Sephiroth stiffened. He lifted a section to his face and breathed in, looking at him with very blue eyes.

"Smells like vanilla."

"If you're going to do it, hurry up," he said, wondering himself why he was snapping.

Genesis just continued to smirk and split it into three long sections. He also wondered if Genesis's hands had intentionally brushed against his neck and just _almost_ his nipple. He trailed his hands through it again, nails brushing against his scalp again. Sephiroth's mouth opened just a little, the scraping rather pleasurable, especially when the tension began to drift from his body.

"I wonder which parent had silver hair."

"I've never asked," Sephiroth said, concisely despite being distracted. "I think Hojo once said something about my mother..."

Genesis hummed and continued to repeat the gentle motions for a while, every now and then whispering soothing things that Sephiroth frowned at, but couldn't bring himself to shush. He felt himself become comfortable and used to the touch and he closed his eyes, too tired to watch Genesis anymore. His muscles ached, his eyes were terribly heavy and the steady stroking felt sort of nice, in all honesty.

After a short while, Genesis laughed quietly. "Angeal," he whispered. "He's sleeping."

"Sitting up like that? Sef," he said, hoping to call his attention if he had just spaced out. He joined Genesis and laughed quietly. "So he is. You're cruel sometimes, you know that?"

Genesis shrugged, still playing with his hair, but he had started plaiting it. He stopped suddenly.

"Goddess," he breathed.

"Huh?" Angeal said, his thin, practically permanently furrowed brows deepened further.

"He's _purring,_" he mouthed back. One of said thin brows shot up his forehead.

"Humans can't purr." But _he_ was. "Put him down," he said, as though he was a father speaking to a child who had picked up stray. Genesis quickly finished the waist length plait and began easing the general onto the cot, grimacing out of fear of waking him.

"Did I fall asleep?" he said, jade eyes opening. Genesis yelped.

"Yeah," said Angeal. Sephiroth said nothing, but lay down, not facing them. For a few long minutes, all they could hear were the insects and a few soldiers's shouts outside. Genesis lay down on his own cot.

--

He was twelve and the silver tresses reached his waist now. He was holding a pair of scissors, and holding a large section away from his face. The floor was already littered with long, silvery strands.

"What are you doing?" Hojo snapped at him from across the lab. Sephiroth did not look at him.

"It's too long. I'm cutting it."

Hojo nodded, coming closer. He watched him for a moment.

"You missed a part at the back." Hojo grabbed the scissors from him and deftly cut the back of it evenly. He stroked it for a second and Sephiroth visibly tensed. Hojo shook his head and giggled to himself again, facing the pre-teen. He pulled at one of the developing, white bangs that Sephiroth tried slicking back until they were draping down his pale cheek. He twirled it around in his fingers and caught him by his pointy chin, frowning deeply as his narrowed eyes scrutinized the boy's face as though he were looking for something. "Remarkable...combination." He whispered to himself.

Confused, green eyes glowered and compulsively he snatched the professor's wrist, tightening his fist around it hard. Hojo stopped laughing.

"Unhand me," he hissed and Sephiroth did, after a second, throwing the professor's wrist from his grasp. Hojo stepped back. He shook his head and traced his lips with a sallow finger. "You have hair like your mothers's." He turned and walked away, leaving Sephiroth clasping the handfuls of cut hair on the floor, and watching the retreating back of the scientist, he ran his hand protectively through the hair over his shoulders as though it might be taken from him.

"You mean mother's," he called.

"Excuse me?"

"Mother's. Not mothers's. I don't have two mothers."

"No, indeed you do not," Hojo said, laughing, shaking his greasy, dark hair from his face. Sephiroth used his hands to make his bangs more prominent, saying nothing more to the professor.

**END**

**A/N: I'm a dirty, dirty review whore. :P**


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